


A Ghost's Colors

by RayRiver



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: 1960s, Angst, Colors, Forbidden, Forgiveness, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Revenge, Sad, Soulmate AU, Spies, ghost - Freeform, haunt, not too bad tho, self doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayRiver/pseuds/RayRiver
Summary: !Slight Mentions of Soulmate AU!For Curt's whole life, he saw in color. He thought for sure that Owen was his soulmate, until he died back in the Russian warehouse after slipping on a banana peel. However, his world remained colorful until he shot his former partner in the head. However, it seems that Owen isn't quite ready to move on this time either...
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. Soulmates in Berlin

The sound of gunshots and screaming filled the stuffy factory air. Two handsome young men rushed around the large warehouse, with great haste. “Behind you!” One of them shouted, before shooting a shaggy-looking man from behind. “Thank you Owen, for having my back!” An American man shouted back to his partner, who nodded, bringing his hair up to slick back his hair. “No problem love, sometimes you need a bit of help eh?” Owen replied with a suave smile, shooting another henchman in the foot. “Ah shut it, I was too focused on watching your ass.” The other man responded, setting down a briefcase on a nearby desk. “Curt you perv.” Owen snorted, rolling his eyes. Curt snickered, opening up the black object, pulling out a bomb.   
“Curt you can’t be serious, another explosion?” The British spy asked, his chest mimicking his rapid breathing. “We don’t have to do this every time love.” The taller spy’s tone was laced with playful teasing. “Of course we do.” The American responded, hooking up some wires. “It’s tradition.” He muttered as he fumbled over the colored cords, thankful he could at least see them. “You old bastard.” Owen teased, walking over, after making sure all the henchmen were dead. “You’ve been too much of a fan of tradition.” He leaned on the desk, watching his partner try to put together the bomb. “Ah shut up I’m only twenty eight.” 

Owen snickered, watching Curt struggle. “You can’t even put a simple bomb together huh? Let me have at it.” The British man made the American move over, before almost instantly connecting two wires, making a timer show up on a small screen. Curt scoffed rolling his eyes as Owen looked at him smugly. “Just set the timer.” He said curtly, pouting a bit, gaining a laugh from his partner. “Alrighty-o!” The taller man grinned as he started going over the glowing buttons.   
“Owen hurry up old boy, we have to beat our last record.” Curt painted, quirking an eyebrow as he fastened his gun back into it’s holster. The tall British man laughed, shaking his head. “You sure do love your games, don’t you Curt?” He winked, pressing a few more buttons on the bomb in front of them. The walls were grimy and rusted over. Owen’s slicked back hair was losing stands, and became messier as he fussed over the glowing buttons. “What are you doing?” Curt asked, walking back to stand behind his partner, trying to see over his shoulder. 

“Giving us enough time.” Owen muttered back, licking his lower lip as he cautiously glanced up at the blinking red timer. “Arugh we can get out of here in six minutes, our last record was ten.” Curt responded with a playful nudge to Owen’s shoulder, making the taller male sigh. “I just want to be safe, love.” Curt rolled his eyes, and rested his shoulders back. He watched as his partner’s face contort with deep thought, and how his dark brown eyes clouded as he did so. 

In that moment, Curt felt his heart swell up with a type of joy that made his blood turn warm. He smiled, grateful that he could see the subtle brown of Owen’s eyes. “You’re my soulmate.” He said suddenly, making Owen pause. That clouded look in his eyes dissipated, and he looked at his American partner with the corner of his vision. “What?” He turned around, his eyes wide and eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

“You heard me.” Curt responded, crossing his arms. “Curt, you can’t be serious.” Owen retorted, doubt dripping from his crisp accent. “There’s no sure-fire way to determine your soulmate, without them dying.” He pressed the green button on the bomb, his eyes becoming distant. “Although, I can’t help but dream, aye?” The British man clicked his tongue, his eyes meeting Curt’s.   
“Owen you know we are-” Owen silenced him, his fingers brushing against his lips. “We can discuss this on the jet love, for now, we have to beat our record.” He smirked, making Curt copy his expression. “Let’s go.” They ran together, gun in hand, quipping at each other as the exit came into view. They both collapsed onto the dry grass and rolled down the hill as the factory blew. Black smoke filled the night air, orange and red illuminated the lemon-colored field. 

Curt looked to his side, where Owen watched the destruction with his mocha-colored eyes. The light flickered in his irises, dust marked his skin, his mouth agape as he paused to catch his breath. “Owen Carvour, you impress me every time.” Curt was the first to speak, breathless. Owen laughed, which almost sounded like a snicker. “I beat you by two milliseconds.” He responded smugly, sitting up and punching Curt’s shoulder. “Did not!” The shorter man shouted, laughing as he followed suite. Curt offered his arm, as soon as he stood, to Owen. They smiled at each other, as Owen took his arm and rose to his feet. 

They pulled each other, embracing each other in their arms as they watched the factory burn on. It was rare for them to hug each other, especially in the open. They knew if their governments caught word of the reality of their partnership, it would surely lead to disastrous result. Even in the world of soulmates, homosexuality wasn’t really well understood by the public. Or the world’s governments. “I don’t know what I would do without you Owen.” Curt whispered, his voice almost masked by the roaring flames a couple of yards away. 

Owen exhaled softly, his breath tickling the hairs on Curt’s neck. “You would become the better spy.” He teased with a wink as they pulled apart. They laughed, their hands refusing to let go. “MEGA!” A voice shouted from the earpiece in the American spy’s ear. “Arugh shit!” He shouted, scrambling into a more confident stature. “Yes Cynthia?” Curt asked, rather smugly. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up.” The stern female voice grumbled, Owen watched Curt’s shoulders slump, with the greatest amusement.

“Have more faith in me, of course we didn’t.” Curt responded, crossing his arms as he spoke. Owen picked up a few pieces of rubble nearby, still smiling. “Good. The jet will be waiting for you at the airport.” Cynthia respond coldly. “Alright Cynthia, see you back in the states.” Curt took out the earpiece, and watched as Owen observed a large shard of glass. “Cynthia giving you a hard time love?” THe British sky asked, smiling with a quirked eyebrow. “As if.” Curt scoffed, catching up to Owen. 

Together, they walked to the airport, the air tense and heavy. “So, soulmate.” Owen said suddenly, wiping his hands on his suit pants. “You were kidding correct?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly. The American spy shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Owen I wouldn’t lie to you.” Curt sighed heavily, watching as Owen tried his hardest to avoid eye contact. “I believe we are indeed, soulmates.” For another moment, they walked in silence. 

“If we are, how will it work Curt?” Owen asked stiffly, giving his partner the side-eye. “We both know that it can’t work, you and I. In the long run.” Bitterness dripped from his voice, and a hint of pain strained it. “What’s wrong with what we have now?” He asked as a car rattled past. “The little time we have between and during missions?” Curt responded, challenging Owen. “We can figure it out.” He offered, holding his hands out. The British spy eyed Curt’s dirty hands with his dark eyes, regret and pain brimming in them. “Curt, it would end badly. You know this.” His voice broke down, like he was holding something back. Curt sighed, the cold of the night making his breath visible. 

“I know.” The American finally responded, after a few heartbeats. “At least, we have our time together.” He muttered sadly. Owen leaned over, pressing his warm lips to Curt’s cheek. “Sometimes, we need to know our limits Curt.” He cupped his partner’s cheek, before continuing their walk to the nearby private airstrip. A small white plane waited for their arrival, sitting innocently on the concrete road. 

“We saved the world again huh?” Curt was breathless, as he grabbed Owen’s hand with his own. “Hah, you’re a sucker for tropes aren’t you love?” The taller man responded with a small laugh. “You amuse me Curt Mega.” He squeezed Curt’s hand back. Just for a second, and let go before any invisible eyes could notice. “I guess this is goodbye, for now.” Curt whispered after a second, earning a sad sigh from the man beside him. “I guess so.”

They faced each other, Owen’s eyes were wide and clouded with a look that Curt had become familiar with in the past few years. It was a cloud that was full of affection, of love, and of care. It was an expression that made Curt’s heart pang with the same emotions. “Until next time?” Curt offered, with a small smile. Owen snorted, parroting his expression. “Curt, you limey cheese ball.” He patted the other man’s arm, grabbing onto it for a split second. A few words were exchanged in that gesture, unspoken, and unheard. A few words that could destroy their lives and career.    
  


A few words that would normally be exchanged between lovers. 

“I love you”   
  
Owen would give anything, everything, to be able to say those words to Curt. Always, their words of affection had to be nothing above whispers. Soft verbalizations of their forbidden romance mustn’t be heard by anyone else. Or they would likely lose what they worked for. All of it. It pained them both, every single mission they ended together. For they always feared it to be their last. 

Curt began to walk up the stairs to the jet’s doorway, before pausing at the mouth of the entrance. He turned around, to see Owen standing a good few feet below him, at the foot of the stairs. “Aren’t you coming?” The American asked, gesturing to the door. Owen laughed, rather bitterly. “I wish love, but I’m afraid my boss wants me to ride a separate jet. Right back to London my dear.” 

Curt frowned, he sighed through his nose as he gripped onto the railing of the stairs. “I guess this really is goodbye, for now.” He waved down at his partner, who returned the action. “Until the next mission.” He bid his farewell, stepping into the jet. Little did they know, but that next mission would lead to tragedy. 


	2. Where The Story Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt Mega goes on his first big mission and meets Owen Carvour for the first time.

At the strapping young age of twenty four, Curt Mega proudly got his approval from Cynthia to become a part of the American Secret Service. Of course, he knew the risks of being a spy, he always had known. Curt also knew that he was sacrificing his search for a soulmate forever, as long as he could still see in color, he was satisfied. As long as his soulmate was alive and well; he was happy. Right? Besides, Curt knew he had no real-time for a soulmate, he was saving the world! He didn’t have time to settle down with a woman.   
A woman, Curt frowned as he walked down the hall from his supervisor’s office, holding his first case file tightly. For some reason, he could never consider settling down with a woman. He knew that it was the way everyone else did it, all of his friends met a pretty lady, and married her. Curt couldn’t really imagine himself with a woman, which made him stare at the ceiling during late nights of drinking. He’d catch himself thinking of the men he had felt a rush of affection for, the men that made his heartache and pound against his ribcage. The rush of blood that would make his face turn a cherry-pink when someone he fancied would get close.  
The agent shook his head a few times, walking faster as he tried to keep his mind out of the twisted thoughts of romance. “Get yourself together Mega, you have your first assignment.” He spoke to himself, focusing his gaze on the neon “EXIT” sign. Cynthia’s previous words to him echoed in his mind. “Don’t fuck this up Mega, or your head will be mounted on my door.” The Agent shivered slightly and walked faster. “I won’t fuck this up.” He convinced himself, kicking the door open to the crisp air outside.  
Once Curt was outside, he opened up the file to peek at it’s contents. A picture was in the file, along with a good stack of papers. The black-haired agent skimmed over the coffee-stained papers, walking towards his car as he did so. “London?” He squinted, trying to decipher the smudged words. “Working with… British spies…” Mega mumbled, bringing the papers closer to his face to see past the coffee rings. “Agent Mega?” A voice asked, making the man look up to face a tired looking woman.   
She was blonde, with thick glasses and a lab coat. She was bouncing between her heeled feet as she waited by a slick black limousine. “Goodness why does Cynthia always make me go outside on the coldest possible time?” She shivered, her teeth clattering as she spoke. Curt’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, quite taken by this nerdy-looking woman. “Oh you don’t recognize me.” The blonde perked up after a moment, straightening her white lab coat. “I’m Barbara, but please call me Barb. I’m the woman who makes all of your tech.” She said proudly, gesturing to herself with her thumb.  
Curt blinked, he would never really think that such a woman could exist in the ASS, but here she was. “Good evening, Barb.” He spoke slowly, putting words together in his head. “I’m Agent Curt Mega.” The man offered his hand to Barb, who shook it almost too enthusiastically. “It’s a pleasure! Now! Here are your supplies for this mission!” She turned around, picked up a black duffel bag, and dumped it into Curt’s arms. “Holy shit! This is heavy!” He exclaimed as he almost fell over, with the sudden onset of weight. “What’s in here?” The Agent asked, exasperated. Barb shrugged nonchalantly as if she did this all the time. “Weapons? There are like four guns in there, and a few other goodies!~.” She winked at Curt and wiggled her hips a bit.   
Curt thanked the intelligent blonde and sat into the limousine, and almost instantly the chauffeur began to drive. Unlit cigarettes awaited any passengers in a cup, and a bottle of alcohol with fancy cups sat on a small tray. He reached over and poured himself a glass. “Your private jet awaits you at the airstrip Agent, I shall drive you there.” The chauffeur said after a moment of silence. “You will be flown out to London, where you’ll be greeted by some of Britain's agents.” The man briefed, as Curt rescanned his documents. “Sounds good.” He responded as he looked over the details.   
The flight to London took longer than Curt would have imagined it would take. When he arrived, it was raining, and rather dark. He didn’t know what time it was, and extremely jetlagged. Three men waited for him at the terminal, one of them caught Curt’s eyes more than he’d like. He was taller, by a couple of inches. He had dark brown/black hair that was slicked back and shone with hairgel. Something about him, made the American agent want to have coffee with him.   
“My name is Agent Owen Carvour.” The man smiled at Curt, his dark eyes brimmed with a hint of flirtatious energy that startled the American. His words were crisp with an accent that would make ladies swoon and any man jealous. The other agents introduced themselves, but Mega paid no attention to them, his senses were focused on Owen. “Agent Curt Mega.” He managed to stutter out after a moment, shaking hands with all three men. For a moment, when he touched Owen’s hand, a spark ignited in his heart. Things clicked in his head, without him realizing it. “A pleasure, love.” The British spy said, with a small wink, making Curt’s face turn a bit pinker.   
There was a briefing, at a nearby UK government building that was a bit too “posh” for Curt’s liking. He had no problems with poshness, but he would much more prefer coffee over black tea any day. He blamed his caffeine addiction on Cynthia, who he swore was the source of his stress. “So?” Owen asked after the meeting was over, leaning his chin on his palm as the other agents filed out of the room. “First mission chap?” He crossed his legs, Curt tried not to blush. “Yeah, at least, on the field.” He responded with a small nervous squeak. Owen seemed amused, reaching over to light a cigarette with a lighter he kept in the breast pocket of his dress shirt. “You’ll do fine.” He glanced at Curt with the side of his eyes, bringing the smoking object to his lips.   
Curt watched as the British man inhaled deeply, and exhaled a cloud of white smoke into the air. For a moment, the American wished he was the cigarette. “I hope so,” Curt responded after a moment, pushing the thoughts away from his mind. They stared at each other, for more than a few seconds, Curt swore that the colors around them became more intense. “We should go, to our first location,” Owen said after some time passed, his voice was distant as if it were in the clouds. Curt cleared his throat and nodded. “I agree, so, shall we?” He smiled at Owen, who chuckled. “We shall.”  
Their first mission was to infiltrate a high-end party, to catch a problematic rouge who had been stealing precious nuclear documents. Curt had dressed in his finest tuxedo; a white, form-fitting tux with a red bow-tie. His black hair was slicked back, akin to Owen’s hair, and his face freshly shaven. He walked down to the limousine with confidence and drank a bit as he headed to the location.   
The venue was a beautiful mansion, with rose bushes decorating the exterior. Standing at the gated entrance was Owen, his arms crossed. Curt couldn’t believe his eyes, and his heart pounded against his chest. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he saw the sleek outfit the British spy wore. It was almost entirely black, making himself seem more sharp and dangerous. His stubble remained, and his hair still shone with hair gel. It was almost astonishing how attractive this man looked. Curt almost didn’t want to get out of the limousine, since he feared he’d embarrass himself.  
“Well don’t you look dashing Curt Mega.” Owen said as soon as Curt stepped out of the limo. The American blushed, almost matching his bow-tie, but he kept his cool. “And so do you.” He teased in return, making Owen snort. “Let’s go love.” Together, they walked into the vast double doors of the mansion, where they were greeted with pretty women and dashing men. Curt felt the weight of his guns against his ribcage, and let out a small sigh. “It’ll be alright,” Owen said softly, giving the man his support. “I’ll locate the drinks.”   
With that, Owen maneuvered his way through the dancing crowd, pushing past drunken ladies. Curt wiped his sweaty palms against his pants and began to mingle with the crowd. Within time, he caught onto the feel of the party, and how he should act. Cool, calm, collected, a ladies man, or whatever. He allowed women to hook onto his arms, he allowed himself to get a bit buzzed, he allowed himself to have a bit of fun. It felt that hours had passed, and even after looking at dozens of ladies in the eyes, only one pair of eyes overpowered them.  
Two dark brown eyes, sharp with focus and determination. Eyes that Curt swore he could see the future in. Owen’s eyes couldn’t leave his mind, he wanted to look at them forever. “Oh Mr. Mega, your arms are so beefy.” One of the drunken women slurred, squeezing his arm and shaking the agent from his daydreaming. “Thank you beautiful.” The American stuttered, kissing the back of her hand. She giggled and winked at him.   
“Curt my old boy.” A crisp accent made Mega spin around, where he was face to face with the British man he suddenly pined for. “I have found the drinks you were looking for.” He said with a wink, making a rush of heat spread through the American’s body. “Great, uh, see you later ladies.” Curt winked at the women, before following Owen through the crowd. Together, they reached a slightly overweight man who was drunkenly laughing. “That’s him?” The shorter agent asked the British man nodded. “Yes, dear.” He responded, unbuttoning his tux, and slicking his hair back again. “We need to get him outta here, and interrogate him.” Curt recited from his briefing papers. “Correct,” Owen responded bluntly.   
Separating the man from the party was stupidly easy, with some smooth-talking from Owen. Now the man struggled in a chair, both spies looking down at him with discontent. “Now we can do this the easy way-” The British spy leaned in dangerously close to the man, his breath tingling the bearded man’s face. “Or the hard way love.” He said smoothly, which made Curt tremble slightly. “The choice is yours,” Mega added slyly, making Owen smile at him. The man below them whimpered, struggling against his bonds.   
“I had to! They offered so much money!” He squeaked as Owen kicked his bound hands. “Who?” Curt asked roughly, making the man tremble. “T-The Germans.” He squealed, as the attractive British man circled the chair like a vulture. “in Germany? East or West?” He asked, his voice sharp and accented. “I don’t know!” The rouge shouted, shaking his head violently. “Dammit please don’t tell me we’re dealing with Nazis.” Owen groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fucking bastards.” He leaned on the chair where the man was sitting, which made him flinch. “Yes! Yes, they were Nazis!” The man said a bit too enthusiastically. “Can you let me go now?”  
Curt snorted, he wondered who would be so foolish to work with fucking Nazis. “‘Fraid not love,” Owen said with a tired pinch to the nose bridge. “You know too much.” Curt watched as the British man pulled out his gun from the holster on his side, and pointed the gun at the center of the man’s face. The man’s eyes widened, opened his mouth to speak, but the bang of the weapon silenced him. Owen blew the smoke from his gun away, as the man slumped over in his seat. Curt couldn’t look, even during his training, he disliked seeing the blood of others if he didn’t have to.   
“We need to work together more Curt Mega, I like you,” Owen said with a wink, before giving a small kiss to the American’s cheek. “Until next time love.” He waved goodbye and walked out of the musty room. Curt’s fingers brushed over the spot where the British spy’s lips met his flesh. In that instant, he thought he could see an invisible string, connecting himself to Owen. “Until next time.” He managed to stutter out, as the other man exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the awkward formatting of my chapters, I use google drive and I paste it here so sometimes things got fonky


End file.
